MIRA-cle

Mira stands there, naked or almost, in that sheer blue thing that barely covers anything. Red hair spills over her shoulders and her tits are heavy, round, perfect. She lets the fabric drop. Just skin now. Full, pale breasts with pale nipples already tight. She grabs the toy she always reaches for, thick and slick, and spreads her legs wide on the bed. One slow push and the head parts her lips, sliding into that wet heat. She breathes through it, hips lifting, taking more until the toy is buried deep. Her free hand cups one breast, squeezing while the other works the shaft in and out, steady, wet sounds filling the quiet room. Every thrust makes her tits bounce. She moans, low and hungry, chasing the next wave already building between her thighs.